GW Together Arc 4 Good Morning
by LoveyouHateyou
Summary: Breakfast in bed is not all there is to a golden morning. Duo has ideas. Heero manages to think...
1. Chapter 1 Duo

**Good Morning I**

Author: LoveyouHateyou  
Fandom: Gundam Wing  
Rating: NC-15/M  
Pairings: Duo and Heero  
Warnings: References to male/male love  
Disclaimer: I do not own them although I would like that. I really, really do. All rights with their original owners.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: There is more to golden mornings than breakfast in bed. At least when you're used to piloting a Gundam. Duo about Heero.

**xxx**

The sun pours cool and golden through the bedroom window. Bathing our messy den in its pale light. I have woken up to birdsong and saw one of the little things flit past the glass. Wonder whether they really are nesting in the drainpipes as Heero believes they do.

I like waking up before him. He is still asleep, on his back, one arm across his chest, the other one angled over his head. He is snoring a little though he'd argue the hell out of me if I told him. How can he consider even snoring a weakness?

When he's asleep, all the tension leaves him – at least these days it does – and his face takes on an expression of serenity. I like looking at him, study every tiny line, every little whisp of hair, watch his lips twitch in a vague smile – wonder what he's dreamin' about now.

Propping myself up on my elbow to have a better view on him, I can see the hand on his chest clutching a fistful of my hair. As though I'd run away… well, sometimes I do, can't help it, though I know he hurts when I leave yet another time. I'm bad at staying in one place for long.

The sheets have slipped down to his hip, and the light is washing over him, caressing his amber skin and sculpting the muscles beneath. He has thrown one leg on top of the bedding, always does this 'cos he says he gets too hot and I'm spoiled for warmth. I cannot help but let my gaze wander from his face over his bare shoulder and chest, down over his thigh and back up. There's a little bulge where the sheets bunch over his groin.

Damn. I'm not good at resisting temptation, either. He'll wake up, too sleepy to fight me off, and let me have my way with him in a nice, lazy fashion. He's not bothered whether he'll finish or not, I think he likes it anyway, but I'll make sure as hell that he's not going to miss out afterwards.

I usually pay for this in the evening, or whenever he can grab hold of me. I can feel my silly grin even as I shift south, my hands skimming over his flanks and his thighs, spreading them a bit more than he has done in his sleep, and softly pulling the sheets off his groin.

I like to kiss him down there. It tickles all sorts of interesting little noises from the Perfect Soldier, sounds he'd be mortified to hear if he were half with it when he makes them. But he isn't, he'll throw back his head and arch up against me, thrusting himself into me with abandon while he moans and whimpers and begs.

Hell, yeah, I got him begging and for that he had my ass when he got round to it. Not that I'd complain. He still feels he has to make up for succumbing to something as normal as desire, has to prove he can rule even this part of our lives. Well, I know he can't. I know it from the way he starts to shift now that I slip him into my mouth and hum a little against his tip.

He's growing a bit restless, and one hand tugs my hair in rhythm with my lapping. I let go of him and trail wet kisses over his thighs, his belly, his chest and look up to find him staring down at me now, mussed bangs falling into his face, midnight eyes hazy with sleep, his mouth slightly slack and smiling dreamily.

"I like that," he murmurs in his deep voice that is still heavy with sleep.

I wouldn't have guessed. It's sweet to keep going, unhurried, gently, and make him come in this quiet, shuddering way he has when he's not quite awake. He digs his head back into the pillow and a blush fans over his face and chest, his eyes, hooded and foggy, turn up and his mouth opens in a silent 'oh' as he loses himself in me.

I give him a kiss that tastes of himself, and hug him close, my hands lacing through his rich smooth hair. Sometimes he'll go back to sleep, sated and tired, snuggled against me while his pulse is slowing and his breathing returning back to normal. Like now, caressed by the sun and warmed by my hands stroking down his shoulder and arm, slowly, soothing, wiping away sweat and heat.

He likes that too.

And when I already think he's dropped off again, he tugs my hair that he hasn't let go of for a second, and asks against my neck, "What was that for?"

I can't help a smug grin, and it's apparent in my tone as I say, "Just saying good morning, soldierboy."

I can feel his smile against my bare skin. "Hmph… and you?"

It is too good to hold him like this, cradled against me, peacable and restful. It is not worth spoiling it just for a bit of relief. "Later."

A small, satisfied grunt is all I get in reply, but he presses a fraction closer, into my embrace, and allows himself to relax a little longer.

A good morning, indeed.  
He's forgotten we're off work today.  
Well, I'd say it's likely to become a long,busy day anyway.

**xxx**

Next chapter: Heero about Duo


	2. Chapter 2 Heero

**Good Morning II**

Author: LoveyouHateyou  
Fandom: Gundam Wing  
Rating: NC-15/M  
Pairings: Duo and Heero  
Warnings: References to male/male love.  
Disclaimer: I do not own them although I would like that. I really, really do. All rights with their original owners.  
Spoilers: None.  
Summary: Well, Heero's thoughts while Duo's at it with him. Hm. It takes someone like Heero to be able to keep thinking...

**xxx**

No matter how hard I try to keep my eyes shut, he won't let off now. I know that because I can hear his breathing deepen and quicken, he's heading south on me - well, when lust grips him, there's hardly anything stopping Duo.

Not that I mind. At least he's going to do something pleasant with this blabbermouth of his - ohhh, damn you, Duo... but that IS nice...

I had no idea just HOW good all this can be, and he's a natural at anything to do with sex. He loves it, he lives it, he is walking desire. He tickles me with his hair, and I'm gone - the little creep knows this all too well. I think he knows ME too well, I let him see too deeply into my mind, and he's climbed right into me without a second thought.

I should have... ah... known... try to think of something other than what his tongue is doing to me down there or it will be over in a second...

His hands on me are so soothing and so damn arousing at the same time, all callouses and heat, rubbing down my sides and my thighs. I know those hands: they're surprisingly small, spiderthin, and for their size damn hard, but when he makes love to me, they are gentle and passionate and incredibly tender.

How can he do this to me? How could I allow him so close? It scares the hell out of me because it means he can hurt me where no one else can. It's wrong because we're at war... gods, this is good... before Duo got me, I had no idea that there is something even further south than south to make love to, and that's where he is busy now, driving me white-hot mad.

Think. Of. Something. Else.

Mostly he just pisses me off. He's good with words, I'm not. I have to think about them first, put them right, until they're perfect, logical and most important of all, don't give me away. So it makes me feel dumb and awkward when he jabbers on about something, usually getting it all so right, so precise - astonishing given this is Duo Maxwell - I always know exactly what he feels, what he sees, and mostly also what he thinks.

Because Duo has no compunction in opening up to me, baring his very soul. It leaves me feeling rather inferior - he is so brave doing this, dropping all his shields, just for me, knowing full well that I can hit home. I HAVE hit home on various occasions, and usually end up feeling like shit about it, but I can't help it - if he's so easy to hurt, I'm easy prey too, for when he aches, I will as well. So I'm trying to harden him up.

It's wrong to expose yourself to hurt. He should know that. I'm doing my best to try and teach him just how stupid he is to leave himself so naked. But no matter how often I leave him sad and bruised, he will try again, hopeful and cheery, to get through to me. He has no idea that he's broken me down already. I wish he'd give up on me, but then, to imagine this nearly kills me.

If he'd only be patient enough to hear me out, for once, but he isn't patient. He is jittery, jumpy, always ready to run if he gets spooked.

If Duo dropped me, I'd be dead. So I wind his braid round my wrist and grab a handful of his hair, just to make sure he stays with me, and I keep bruising him to toughen him up against all the others that will try to get to him, and I fail miserably. I hate failure. I hate him for making me fail, for showing me there's more to life than perfection - I've never been taught this before. I know nothing else but striving to be perfect, the Perfect Soldier, the ultimate fighting machine.

Duo would never have become what I am. He's not suited for the job because he loves life. I court death.

So I let him have his way with me, making love with his hands, his mouth, his entire being, to my body and my soul until they melt into one with his, and even in taking me like this he's giving himself entirely.

Is this what love is about? I wouldn't know. I've not been taught about love.

My groin knots and burns under his touch, his caress, his incredible mouth, my mind aches because I hate feeling so damn weak and yet I cannot help craving him, all the time, my mate, my friend, my everything. He makes me go into meltdown, searing and blinding, stealing my breath and my composure, but he doesn't know that my brain's still switched on, unlike him - he is completely gone when he's in the throes of release. I don't get the benefit of small deaths. For me, only the one Death is waiting, and one rotten day it'll get me.

And then what will become of him? It causes me to panic every time it crosses my mind, for I know he hangs on to me as much as I cling to him. He should know better. He could do better, with his pretty face and laughing eyes, his long mane and skinny frame. Tough as nails, and such a damn soft bet on the inside. It is plain wrong. Yet this is Duo, and I would not have fallen so hard for him if he were any different.

He has me in turmoil. He's tipped my world upside down, thrown himself at me with abandon, and made me FEEL, against every instinct, against my will. I was taught not to do this. It's dangerous, and I can see why. He turned me into an utter mess, but I refuse to let on. It frazzles him no end, but that's it. He'll never know if I can help it because I couldn't bear him submitting, doting, devoted. I like him struggling because it makes him stronger - sometimes, he scares me for he seems so frail but at the same time so rough. I know he doesn't like the rough bit, but he needs it. Letting him slump into me would mean leaving him defenceless to this ugly world.

I cannot do this for I'm not sure I could protect him even now, while I'm alive.

Birdsong. His hair thick and wiry in my grip, his smiling face hovering above mine. He kisses me, I close my eyes and press my face against his shoulder. He mustn't see me now, but I have the silly feeling he doesn't need to look at me to know... because his arms wrap around me, and he tugs up the blanket over both of us and holds me still and close in his warmth.

And you, I hear myself ask, and he says, later, in this sated, casual tone that tells me he's happy.

That's fine by me. I like him happy for then, I'm content. It's me making him happy.

I think we're on a day off today.  
I also believe I know what he's planning. He can be so damn singleminded.  
And that's fine by me too.

**xxx**

The End


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